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I Will Always Be With You, Mum: A True-to-Life Story of Love, Loss, and Miracles in an English Village
I shall always be with you, Mother. A story one could believe in
Grandma Dorothy could hardly wait for the evening. Her neighbour, Susana solitary woman approaching fiftyhad confided something that set Dorothys world spinning.
To prove her point, Susan had even invited Dorothy round later, hinting she had something to show her.
It all started as these things do: in idle conversation. That morning, Susan had popped in on Dorothy while on her way to the corner shop.
Do you need anything from the shop, Dorothy? Im heading over to fetch bits for a pie, and I thought Id ask.
Dorothy, ever the kind soul, replied, Youre a good woman, Susan, thoughtful and caring. I remember you as a young girl. Its a shame things havent worked out for you, always on your own. But I see youre not one for moping about or complaining, not like some folk.
Well, what should I complain about, Dorothy? Susan smiled. I do have someone I love, just cant live with him at the moment. And Ill tell you why. Ive never told anyone, but I feel you should hear it. Maybe then youll stop feeling sorry for me.
Dorothy tried to demurshe needed nothing from the shop, truth be toldbut curiosity got the better of her, and she asked Susan to bring a loaf of bread and some boiled sweets for tea.
When Susan returned, Dorothy set out the tea things, the scent of Earl Grey filling the cosy kitchen. She listened, all ears.
Dorothy, do you remember what happened to me, oh, must be twenty years ago now? I was nearly thirty. There was a man; we planned to marry. I thought, even if I wasnt in love, he was a good man, and it seemed time for a family. He moved in. I fell pregnant. Eight months along, a girl was born. She lived but two days before slipping away. Susan paused, her gaze far off. I thought Id go mad with grief. We divorced, nothing held us together.
She took a sip of tea before continuing. A couple of months passed. I was still raw, but I stopped weeping all the time. Then, suddenly Susan looked to Dorothy, as though seeking her blessing to go on.
I dont know how to explain this. Id set up a cot in my bedroom for the baby. People say its unlucky to prepare too soon, but I never believed in that sort of thing. I had it all ready, even some soft toys.
One night, I woke to the sound of a baby crying. At first, I thought it was just my nerves, but the crying went on. I went to the cot and there she wasa tiny girl, fast asleep. I picked her up, felt light with joy. She looked at me, closed her little eyes, and drifted off again.
After that, every night she returned. My darling girl, as real as youd please. I bought baby formula and a bottle, but she never ate much. Shed just cry, Id pick her up, shed smile at me, then close her eyes and sleep.
Dorothy listened, enthralled. How is that possible? she breathed.
I didnt believe it myself! said Susan, her cheeks flushed.
And after? pressed Dorothy, unwrapping a sweet.
Its continued all this time, Susan replied, her eyes shining. She lives in another world, I suppose, with parents there, but she doesnt forget me. She visits me at night, nearly every night. And once, she told me:
I shall always be with you, Mother. We are linked by an invisible strand, one that can never be broken.
Sometimes I wonder if its only a dream, but she brings small gifts from her world. They dont last long here, fading away like frost in the morning sun.
Is it really so? Dorothy sipped her tea, a lump rising in her throat.
Thats why I want you to come around and see. Tell me if theres anything to what I see. I do believe, butits always good to know for sure.
That evening, Dorothy went round to Susans house. They sat together in the gentle gloom as night settled in, the only ones at home. Dorothy was on the verge of nodding off when, suddenly, a soft light shimmered in the room. The air seemed to quiver, and thena lovely girl appeared.
Hello, Mum! she said, beaming. I had such a wonderful day and wanted to share it with you! Here, I brought you some flowers.
The girl noticed Dorothy, a little startled. Oh, hello! I forgotyou wanted to see me, didnt you? Im Abigail
After a while, the girl smiled goodbye and seemed to melt away as quietly as shed come.
Dorothy sat in stunned silence for some moments before she finally spoke. Well, Susan, it really does seem true.
Shes a beauty, your girltakes after you. Im glad for you, Susan. Maybe your lot in life isnt so hard after allmay even be better than most! Had I not seen it myself, Id never have believed it possible. And I thank you. Youve opened my eyes. The world is a bigger place than I thought. Life goes on everywhere. I shant be afraid of death any longer.
May happiness be yours, dear Susan!
The flowers Abigail had brought faded to nothing, vanishing like mist. But as Susan walked Dorothy out, there was a quiet joy about her. Tomorrow would bring a new and lovely day. She would see Jonathan, the man she cared for so deeply, and she knewshe truly knewhe felt the same.
How did she know?
How could she ever explain?
One day, she would bring them togetherher most beloved, Abigail and Jonathan.
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No One Left to Talk To: A Story “Mum, what are you saying? How can you say you’ve got no one to talk to? I call you twice a day,” her daughter asked wearily. “No, sweetheart, that’s not what I meant,” Nina Anderson sighed sadly. “I just don’t have any friends or acquaintances left who are my age. From my time.” “Mum, don’t talk nonsense. You still have your school friend Irene. And honestly, you’re so modern and you look much younger than you are. Oh, Mum, what’s wrong?” her daughter fretted. “You know Irene has asthma; when she talks on the phone she starts coughing. And she lives all the way on the other side of the city. There were three of us friends, remember I told you? But Mary’s been gone for a long time. Yesterday, Tanya from the flat next door popped in. I made her a cuppa—she’s a lovely woman, often drops by. She even brought over some buns she’d baked for her family. She told me about her children and grandchildren. She’s got grandchildren, even though she’s about fifteen years younger than me. But her childhood, her memories—they’re so different from mine. I just long for a chat with peers, people like me,” Nina Anderson explained, though she realised perfectly well that her daughter wouldn’t understand. She was still young. Her time wasn’t gone—it was just outside the window. She didn’t yet yearn for memories. Sveta was wonderful and caring; it wasn’t about her. “Mum, I got us tickets for a night of classic ballads on Tuesday. Remember you wanted to go? No more sulking—put on your burgundy dress, you look stunning in it!” “All right, darling, everything’s fine. I don’t know what came over me, good night, we’ll speak tomorrow. Go to bed early—you hardly get any sleep,” Nina changed the subject. “Yes, Mum, goodnight. Bye,” and Svetlana hung up. Nina Anderson gazed silently at the glittering evening lights outside… Year Eleven, also spring. So many plans. It seemed so recent. Her friend Irene fancied Simon Mallory from their class. But Simon liked Nina. He’d call her every evening, invite her out. But Nina thought of him as just a friend—why raise his hopes? Later Simon left for the army. He came back, married, lived in Irene’s old house. Back then everyone had a landline. The number… Nina Anderson dialled the number from memory. The tone didn’t come at once—then someone picked up, there was rustling and then a quiet man’s voice: “Hello, I’m listening.” Maybe it’s too late? Why did I call? Maybe Simon doesn’t even remember me, or maybe it’s not him at all! “Good evening,” Nina’s voice rasped a little with nerves. There was more static on the line, then suddenly she heard an astonished voice: “Nina? Is that really you? Of course it is. I’d know your voice anywhere. How did you find me? I’m only here by chance….” “Simon, you recognised me!” A wave of joyful memories swept over Nina Anderson. No one had called her by her name for ages—just “mum”, “granny”, or “Mrs Anderson”. Well, except Irene. But just “Nina” sounded so wonderful, so fresh—as if the years hadn’t passed at all. “Nina, how are you? I’m so glad to hear from you.” Those words made her ridiculously happy. She’d feared he wouldn’t recognise her, or her call would be out of place. “Do you remember Year Eleven? When Simon and Victor took you and Irene out in that rowing boat? He’d blistered his hands on the oars and tried to hide it. Then we ate ice cream on the riverside while the music played,” Simon’s voice was soft and wistful. “Of course I remember!” Nina laughed joyfully, “And that class camping trip? We couldn’t get the tins open, we were so hungry!” “Oh yes,” Simon chuckled, “Then Victor opened them and we sang songs by the campfire. Do you remember? After that, I decided to learn the guitar.” “And did you?” Nina’s voice rang with youthful delight at all these shared memories. It was like Simon was reviving their happy past, recalling detail after detail. “So, how are things now?” Simon asked, but immediately answered himself, “Actually, I can tell from your voice you’re happy. Children, grandchildren? You still writing poems? I remember: ‘To dissolve into the night and be reborn by morning!’ So full of hope! You always were like sunshine, Nina! You bring warmth to everyone, no one could be cold around you. Your family’s so lucky—to have a mum and granny like you is pure gold.” “Oh, come off it, Simon, I’m long past that. My time’s over, I—” He interrupted. “Come on, you give out so much energy I think my phone’s about to melt! Just kidding. I don’t believe you’ve lost your zest for life—not a bit. That means your time isn’t over yet, Nina. So live—and be happy. The sun shines for you. And the breeze chases clouds across the sky for you. And the birds sing for you!” “Simon, you’re still such a romantic. What about you? I’m going on and on about myself…” But suddenly there was a crackle and the call cut out. Nina sat there, phone in hand. She wanted to ring back, but it was late—better not. Another time. What a wonderful chat they’d had—so many memories! The sudden ringtone made Nina jump. Her granddaughter. “Yes, Daisy, hello, I’m still up. What did Mum say? No, my mood’s fine. I’m going to a concert with Mum. Are you coming over tomorrow? Wonderful, see you then. Bye.” In an unexpectedly good mood, Nina Anderson went to bed, head full of plans. As she drifted off, she found herself composing lines for a new poem… In the morning, Nina decided to visit Irene. Just a few stops on the tram—she wasn’t a creaky old nag yet. Irene was delighted: “At last! You’ve been promising for ages. Ooh, is that an apricot tart? My favourite! Well, spill, what’s brought this on?” Irene coughed, pressing her hand to her chest, then waved Nina’s concern away. “It’s all right, new inhaler—I’m better. Come on, let’s have tea. Nina, you look younger somehow—come on, tell me!” “I don’t know—my fifth youth!” Nina laughed as she sliced the tart. “Yesterday I rang Simon Mallory by accident… remember your crush in Year Eleven? We got to reminiscing—I’d forgotten half of it. What’s up, Irene? Not another asthma attack?” Irene sat pale and silent, then whispered: “Nina, you didn’t know? Simon passed away a year ago. He lived in another part of town—he moved from that old place ages ago.” “You must be joking! How? Who was I talking to? He remembered everything about our school days. My mood was terrible before talking to him. But after we spoke, I felt life was carrying on—that I still had strength, and joy for living… How could it be?” Nina couldn’t believe Simon was gone. “But I heard his voice. He said such beautiful things: ‘The sun shines for you. And the breeze chases clouds across the sky for you. And the birds sing for you!’” Irene shook her head, sceptical of her friend’s story. Then she surprised Nina by saying: “Nina, I don’t know how, but it really does sound like it was him. His words, his style. Simon loved you. I think he wanted to support you… from the other side. And it looks like he did. I haven’t seen you so happy and full of energy for ages. One day, someone will piece your tattered heart back together. And you’ll finally remember—what it feels like to be… simply happy.”
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